


Omega Blue

by kitausu



Series: Omega Blues [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mafia AU, Marriage of Convenience, Mates, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Rituals, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, courting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitausu/pseuds/kitausu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 years ago the Hale Pack Mafia was destroyed by the Argents. Now Derek is back, but his pack is small and he needs protection. Stiles is Don of one of the largest and most powerful pack mafias in the country. However, as an Omega, he is having trouble controlling those around him, including members of his own pack, who view him as weak. </p><p>A mating of convenience is the best option for both packs. But will Stiles and Derek be able to get along long enough to change anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing around with this idea for a while. I hope to update every Saturday but I have a lot going on so we will see how it goes.

Stiles sighed as he twirled the blade idly between his fingers. He was distracted, watching Scott and Lydia sparring on the mat. Scott was an Alpha, but Lydia was faster to adapt so they were usually fairly evenly matched. Today, however, Scott was pushing himself hard, his eyes flashing red, moving Lydia to the edge of the mat. He was just about to take her down completely when the click of the safety of a gun echoed through the room.

“I win.” Lydia smirked, nudging the barrel of the gun against Scott’s sweaty forehead.

Scout pouted, “No fair, I thought we said no outside weapons!”

Lydia just preened as she slipped the little revolver back into its hiding spot and fixed her ponytail.

Stiles just smiled at his Beta as she took the seat beside his.

“You did say no guns.” Lydia ignored them both as Scott crowed triumphantly.

“You are not an impartial judge,” Lydia sniffed.

The Alpha flopped down on the ground, his hand wrapping easily around Stiles’ ankle as he grinned.

“Hale meeting in an hour.” Lydia stretched like a cat with her arms over her head.

Stiles grimaced and pushed his ankle more firmly into Scott’s hold.

He wasn’t looking forward to this meeting. He could already tell the whole thing was going to be exhausting. The back of his neck prickled in annoyance at the anticipation of being around an overbearing Alpha. The posturing and the way Alphas spoke down to him just because he was an Omega. Gerard Argent actually cooed at him like some dumb baby before attempting to grab his ass.

That hadn’t gone over well. Scott had broken the older Alpha’s hand before Stiles of Lydia could even blink.

That was the other thing. Scott. Scott could be a wild card when Alphas came around Stiles. He had been like this their entire lives. Dr. Deaton finally identified it for what it was when they were about eight. A Brotherhood Bond. Everyone in the pack had been shocked, assuming just a regular mate bond between Alpha and Omega. Brotherhood bonds were almost unheard of, especially in this day and age.

In the case of a Brotherhood bond, those in the bond had two mates, a brother and a romantic mate. It left the two in the bond equally devoted to their mates, just with different drives. Stiles hadn’t found his second mate, but Scott had tried to explain the instincts to him and Allison.

Basically he was equally driven to scent, protect, and be around, Stiles and Allison as much as possible. But he had absolutely no drive to rut with Stiles. He had kind of shrugged at that point and told Stiles it would make more sense once he found his second bond.

Even knowing all of this, it was a little difficult to think of Scott as a big bad Alpha when he was currently flopped out at Stiles feet and waxing poetic about Allison’s knees or something.

“Scott,” Lydia spoke his name sweetly, cutting him off mid sonnet.

“Scott, darling. If you had to pic, who has the more beautiful ankles, Allison or Stiles?”

Scott’s puppy dog eyes came out immediately, “No.”

“Come on Scott, if you had to pick?” Lydia grinned, all teeth.

“You _know_ that I _can’t_ …” Scott turned his eyes on Stiles, who caved immediately.

“Alright, quiet.” Stiles laughed and stood.

Scott’s grip tightened briefly before letting go and rolling to his feet as well.

It was time to get ready for the Hale-Hell meeting anyway.

 

Derek watched expressionless as Erica, Boyd, and Jackson checked their weapons and prepped to leave. Danny stood off to the side, refusing to interact, even with his Omega (which was really ticking Jackson off and amusing everyone else).

Danny was serving as their meditator for the Stilinski meeting. Normally you would never even consider the mate of a guard as a neutral party, but Danny had grown up with Stilinski and his guard. Besides, Derek once watched Danny laugh his ass of when Boyd accidentally broke Jackson’s leg when the Omega tried to sneak up on him.

“So, what’s this Stilinski Omega like?” Derek asked, faux casual.

Danny smirked, “Nothing like an Omega.”

“Mate?” Boyd came over to stand near Derek.

“Brotherhood Bond, with an Alpha, but no romantic mate,”

Derek blinked.

A Brotherhood bond was rare, especially between an Omega and Alpha. Most Alphas could barely process the idea, an Omega was for mating.

“You’ll meet Alpha McCall at the meeting.”

Derek grunted and squeezed Boyd’s neck before walking away.

He hadn’t planned on dealing with a Brotherhood bond. He had been sloppy. But even if he had known, it wouldn’t have changed anything. An Omega in charge of a pack mafia was a wild card from the start.

Besides, they needed this alliance.

 

Stiles watched himself in the fogged up mirror of their bathroom. He looked into his own eyes and watched them change from honey brown to Omega blue.

Omega.

He was Omega, nothing would change that.

He groaned and rubbed his hands across his face. When he looked up again, his eyes were brown once more.

He took the towel from the counter and wrapped it around his waist before stepping into their bedroom.

Stiles snarled at the suit he saw on the bed.

“No, absolutely not – “

“Stiles – “ Scott started towards him, arms outstretched in appeal.

“No!” Stiles clutched desperately at his towel, searching for an escape.

“I’m not wearing that…that thing!” Stiles struggled weakly as Scott pulled him into an embrace.

Scott nuzzled him behind the ear, “Come on, for me.”

He pressed a kiss to the junction between Stiles neck and shoulder.

“If you don’t, Lydia will kill me,” Stiles let Scott lead him until his back gently hit the wall.

“I know what you’re doing,” Stiles grumbled, but thread his fingers through Scott’s hair anyway.

Scott grunted, already lost to his wolf in the moment.

He pressed as close to his bondmate as possible, “Mine.”

Stiles laughed and let Scott bite gently at their mating mark. “Yes Scott, yours.”

The door was closed but unlocked. He knew what they looked like to the uninformed observer. But there was nothing sexual happening. Despite Scott’s panting breath against his skin and Stiles’ near nakedness, both were flaccid against each other’s hips.

They stayed like that until Lydia burst through the door in her typical dramatic fashion.

“Enough! Stiles, get dress! Scott, get out! He already smells like you enough as it is!”

Scott grinned wolfishly as he finally let Stiles free from his grip.

 

Derek arrived a half hour early out of habit. Being forced to wait could put him at the disadvantage, but also allowed him to establish a perimeter.

He lounged in the back booth of the dark little Italian restaurant. He let his sent permeate the air, pumping pheromones into the closed off space. Jackson and Erica snapped at each other in his earpiece.

Jackson settled eventually, signaling Danny’s arrival about 10 minutes later.

Derek took the earpiece out briefly, avoiding the private words between an Alpha and his Omega.

He was settling the bud back into his ear as the scent of unmated Omega hit him hard.

Don Stiles Stilinski strutted into the restaurant like he owned it and everything else too. His blood red suit made him a beacon, momentarily taking up Derek’s entire field of vision.

He tamped down the urge to get to him, to protect and woo and take. His eyes were blood red, Alpha red, and he couldn’t get them to change back. He had never reacted to an Omega, to anyone, like this.

“Alpha Hale,” Stilinski nodded, ignoring Derek’s proffered hand a he took a seat.

Their eyes locked and Stilinski held, and held, and _held,_ refusing to lose the dominance battle.

Derek’s mouth filled with saliva and his fangs dropped involuntarily at the show of defiance. He hadn’t lost control like this since he was a child and just learning to shift. He finally had to either drop his gaze or launch himself across the table.

He could see the satisfied smirk that curled Stilinski’s lips out of the corner of his eye.

“Alpha Hale, you requested this meeting,” his eyes were cool and unaffected.

Derek had planned an entire speech, to ease the idea into the conversation. He had planned to charm the little Omega and take as his Alpha’s right. He had never been very good with people.

He hadn’t expected Stiles Stilinski.

“May I court you, Don Stilinski?

 

Stiles jerked upright in his chair. It wasn’t unexpected. He knew it had been coming. What else could Hale want? But it still caught him completely off guard, especially the way his eyes pierced so earnestly into his.

“Why?”

Hale fidgeted slightly, looking almost nervous.

“My pack is…weak,” he ground out the last word like driving a knife through his own chest for all it cost him.

“I’ve been away for a long time and we need…we need help. We need the protection of a stronger, larger, pack. And…” Derek averted his gaze towards a tomato sauce stain on the table cloth.

“And you could use my help.”

Stiles flinched. They both knew what he meant.

Stiles was a skilled fighter, none could handle a blade better then him in the city. He was bright and innovative. The business side of the pack had never run smoother.

But he was still Omega. And to some, no matter how good he was, he would never be enough.

Stiles watched him for a while, this strange Alpha who averted his gaze and asked for an Omega’s help.

He was attractive, and his scent called to Stiles in the way no one else’s ever had. But he couldn’t afford to be swayed just because of his hormones.

“I’ll think about it, Alpha Hale.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm updating this again? I admit when I started this, I only had a vague notion of where I wanted to go with it, so it fell to the wayside. But I received a really lovely comment and was inspired. I have an actual plot outline now and hope to finish this up soon-ish. Thank you to everyone that has commented, you're amazing.

Derek honestly expected Don Stilinksi to get up and leave after that, so he was shocked when Stiles waved a waiter over and asked for a menu.

Surprised, the waiter looked anxiously between the two Dons and Alpha McCall sitting two tables over.

“I-I’m so sorry, Don Stilinski. When you arrived I put in your regular order. Of course I can get you a menu though I—“

Stiles held up his hand, stemming the flow of nervous babble. Derek couldn’t help but admire the slender curve of his wrist as he did so.

“How about the house red, to start?”

The waiter nodded frantically and scurried away, clearly relieved to make it out with all normal body parts attached.

“You have a usual, here?”

Stiles started, and turned his attention back to Derek with a look of genuine surprise.

“You thought I wouldn’t have a usual at my own restaurant?”

Nearly dropping his wine glass, Derek fumbled and set it back down heavily on the table.

“You didn’t know.”

His voice was flat, but when Derek simply shook his head dumbfounded, Stiles burst out in a peal of laughter.

“You call me to my own restaurant to ask to court me, without even knowing it’s mine!”

The look Stiles throws him is appraising, but his entire body seems to relax a bit in his chair.

“Now I see why you need my help.”

“Oh do you?”

Stiles leaned forward, a predatory look in his eye that Derek had never seen before on an omega.

“Yes. You’re strong, but every alpha is strong. Your pack is small, but that isn’t necessarily a death sentence, if you’re smart about it. Which only means one thing….”

The latter half of the sentence hung between them. Derek knew what he was looking for, knew that Stiles was testing the waters. What kind of alpha was, Don Hale? Was he the kind to lash out and punish an omega for insolence, even with his bodyguard just feet away? What would he do with such a blatant slight?

“I’m not a good strategist, I’ll give you that. I use brute force, and when that doesn’t work, I fail. The thing is, I can’t afford to fail anymore.”

Stiles bestowed an approving smile his direction, but did not respond. The waiter placed their plates in front of them moments later, both with steak, rare and bloody, saving Derek from trying to find something to talk about.  

“That’s your usual?” Derek really had never seen an omega eat like this or act like this before.

“Listen, Don Hale. I may be an omega, but first and foremost, I am a wolf, and I am the head of one of the largest mafia families in the city. Get used to it.”

The quiet snort of laughter from Alpha McCall was not missed, and quickly erased the look of slack jawed disbelief on Derek’s face. He had forgotten that McCall was there, a mistake he couldn’t afford in a situation like this.

The rest of the meal was held in silence, occasionally punctuated by questions about the other’s pack. At one point, Stiles slipped the blood red suit jacket from his shoulders and let it flop over the back of the wooden chair. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing muscular forearms, and Derek’s mouth went dry.

When they finished, Derek attempted to pull out his wallet, but Stiles waved him off.

“My restaurant, remember?”

Alpha McCall was already at his side, holding the suit jacket up for Stiles to slip back into after he finished unrolling his sleeves.

“I’ll be in touch, Don Hale.”

Stiles sauntered out just as he came, confident that the world was his and everything would move at his touch. Derek had never felt more off balanced, or more turned on, in his entire life. Even his betas were struck dumb, the earpiece silent of all chatter for several long moments before Danny’s laughter cut through.

“I told you he wasn’t like any omegas you’ve ever met. “

“Are we sure he’s even an omega?” Boyd sounded in shock, his voice a little awed.

“You could smell him.” Erica laughed, her voice echoing a little as she left her hiding spot and approached her Don.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to step in and mediate. This was way more fun.”

Derek left the restaurant in silence, confident that the others would follow.

 _Had that been fun?_ Derek wasn’t sure if he remembered _fun,_ but he thought it might have been.

 

“What is that look you’re giving me?”

Scott smirked and looked away, tightening his hold on Stiles hand when he tried to pull away with a pout.

“You liked him.”

Stiles stopped and glared at his mate, affronted beyond belief, partially because, how dare Scott, but mostly because it was true.

“That muscle bound meat head? Hardly.”

Pulling gently on their joined hands, Scott coxed Stiles the last few feet to the car.

“He passed your tests.”

“Oh joy! An alpha that doesn’t fly into a rage when an omega doesn’t immediately submit. What paper should I call to report an actually compassionate, human acting, alpha?”

Scott just gave him a look, tapping the seatbelt to remind him to buckle up.

Silence reigned in the vehicle until the car finally started to move down the street. The soft plush feel of Stiles’ lips pressing an apology to his cheek made him smile and finally turn back to his mate.

“Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course.”

Scott made sure the privacy partition was locked in the closed position before lifting his arm and letting Stiles snuggle into his side.

Stiles was strong, unbelievably so, omega or not. But it took a lot out of him, and Scott was always willing to be the pillar for him to lean on.

 

Stiles and Scott waited as the second car, containing Lydia and Allison, pulled up behind them outside of the Stilinski den and the two girls joined them on the steps.

“We got back earlier than expected. I want to push the meeting with the senator to today, maybe we can get some movement on the gangs. I’m tired of minor groups skimming off our profits. I also want—“

Stiles stopped as the overwhelming sent of alpha and beta aggression hit him like a wave when he walked through the front door.

He could feel Scott tense through their bond, and see Lydia and Allison draw weapons as they moved to surround him in a protective formation.

Following the scent, Stiles ended up at the entrance to the ballroom. Two major groups divided on either side of the floor, most at least partially wolfed out and screaming.

“An omega cannot lead a mafia family! It’s unnatural!”

“Are you insane or just stupid? Our family has never been more successful than it is now under Don Stilinski!”

Scott was practically vibrating with rage at his side, but Stiles was calculating. It was clear that ¾ of the pack were defending him, furious at the mutiny, but that still left a ¼ of his pack leading a rebellion. Stiles was of the mind that any dissent was too much dissent, but a ¼ of his pack was unacceptable.

“Put him in a bed where he belongs and let the real al—“

The room went deathly silent as the leader fell to the ground, a bullet square between the eyes.

Handing the gun back to Lydia, Stiles strolled in at an easy pace, casually unsheathing his knife as he went.

“Would someone care to continue that sentence?”

“D-don Stilinski…you’re back early.”

Cold, omega blue eyes turned and bored into the beta who spoke. Stiles didn’t remember his name, but he was on the side defending him.

“Does that matter? Are my movements dictated by my subordinates? Do I need to report everything I do to the people I command?”

Shrinking under the weight of the gaze, the beta turned his eyes immediately downward.

“No, of course not, Don Stilinski. My apologies.”

It didn’t take a genius to see which of the alphas were running the rebellion, and it was all alphas. Not a single beta among his pack could be found in the minority. Stiles couldn’t help but smile at that, a slow dangerous smile that made even the largest of his little rebels step back in alarm.

“I see we have a problem. Would someone from this little group over here care to explain it to me?”

One of the bigger alphas, Tom, Stiles’ brain supplied, stepped forward.

“We don’t think an omega bitch—“

_Thwack._

Tom fell to the floor, one of Stiles throwing knives solidly through his wind pipe.

“Does anyone else want to _voice a complaint?_ ”

Stiles let the silence drag on, but no one spoke up.

“Lydia, I want names.”

“Yes, Don Stilinski.”

Stiles swept out of the room, Scott hot on his heels, leaving Lydia and Allison to deal with the uprising.

“It wasn’t a majority, Stiles. This is better than we thought. We can deal with this.”

The bright screen of Stiles’ phone lit up in the dim hallway.

“Yeah, we can deal with this.”

Stiles typed in the contact number from the bottom of Derek Hale’s email.

“Hale, I’ve thought about it. I accept your proposal. Do not bring me an animal carcass.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any typos or incoherency. I am incredibly tired but wanted to get this out tonight. I hope you enjoy!

There is a customary week of waiting between acceptance and the first courtship meeting. In that week, Stiles can feel the tension rising in his pack. The business side continues to run smoothly, but the divisions in the pack are growing deeper. The leaders had been dealt with, let go without the protection of the pack, essentially a death sentence. But he couldn’t destroy them all, couldn’t cripple his pack by such a large percentage. So, some remained, hostile, but still there, and surprisingly obedient for now.

After his phone call to Don Hale, he spent two days pretending that nothing had changed, ending up under the weight of Scott’s body and the heat of Allison at his side each night just to curb the stress. But the tension couldn’t last, it needed a proper release, and it was Stiles’ job to give it to them.

“Are you sure you want to announce this?”

Scott sat crosslegged on their bed, watching Stiles tuck knives into the lining of his vest, admiring the stretch of silk across the play of muscles in his back.

“Maybe we should wait to see if this actually works out.”

Stiles couldn’t help but snort as he tucked the last knife into his boot.

“I thought you liked Don Hale.”

“No, I said _you_ liked Don Hale.”

Scott corrected him as he rolled onto his feet and kicked around under the bed to find his shoes.  

“It’s not like I can hide his scent. We’re meeting tomorrow, and the whole _purpose_ of that first meeting is to scent mark each other so everyone knows we’re off the market.”

Checking himself in the mirror, Stiles jumped slightly when Scott snarled and wrapped his arms right around Stiles’ waist from behind, his stance uneven with only one shoe on in his haste.

“I can hide it. My scent is strong.”

Scott grumbled, nosing along Stiles’ neck and rubbing their scent glands together roughly.

“Scott.”

The tone was sharp and one that was so rarely used between them. Scott immediately stepped back and bowed his head in submission. This was the tone Stiles used when he needed to draw a line, needed to put Scott in his place. In this moment, Stile wasn’t Scott’s bondmate, he wasn’t his omega brother, he was Don Stilinski.

“My apologies, Don. I support you in all things.”

Stiles turned and smiled, gently running his hand through Scott’s hair, petting his still bowed head.

“I know you do.”

Scott didn’t lift his head until Stiles turned and walked out the door, concern etched across his face.

 

Stiles looked out at the group crowded into the ballroom. Most simply looked curious, a good sign. Stiles let his eyes pass over those loyal to him, nodding slightly to acknowledge them in his favor. In turn, he held the gazes of those whose eyes shifted aggressively, holding and holding until they were forced to look away, cheeks hot with embarrassment and submission.

“I’ve called you all here to make an announcement. There will be no questions.”

This wasn’t exactly unusual. While Stiles appreciated feedback from his pack, he did not allow for mob mentality to take over, and letting someone question his authority in front of the entire pack was a sure fire way to lose credibility.

“I have decided to accept Don Hale’s offer of courtship from the Hale pack. You will see Don Hale around the den. You will be respectful of Don Hale. If I hear of any disrespect, the punishment will be swift and severe.”

Stiles gestured to a few of the betas up front to follow him out, those with active assignments in the field who needed to report.

They followed him without a word, and voiced their reports in his office. No one dared to bring up Hale or the courtship or what having an Alpha around would do for the pack.

For the moment, they were all appeased.

His dissenters thought they had won. His supporters understood why this was happening. They also knew, Don Stilinski did not lose.

 

When Derek arrived at the Stilinski den, he had made good on his promise not to bring an animal carcass. Instead, he held a box of cupcakes fresh from the little bakery down the street, and was rewarded with a look of unrepressed delight and surprise when Alpha McCall walked him into the study and Stiles caught the scent.

“Is there chocolate in there?”

Stiles looked beyond thrilled, and something warm and distinctly alpha curled pleasantly in Derek’s stomach at the success of his first attempt at providing for his soon to be mate.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a mix.”

Reaching out for the box, Stiles looked appraisingly at the cupcakes then at Derek.

“I like chocolate.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Stiles liked the immediate calming effect of Derek’s scent in his study. At their first meeting they had both been on edge, Stiles, as a don expecting a challenge, and Derek as an alpha expecting rejection. Today, though, they were an alpha and omega meeting with the understanding of a courtship. Both their scents had mellowed to the other, and both were feeling the effects, their bodies automatically angling towards the other subconsciously, even as Stiles shoved a cupcake into his mouth, smearing his chin with frosting and letting Derek in on the fact that, as cool as Don Stilinski could act, he wasn’t that cool at all.

“Don Stilinski.”

Scott coughed pointedly, his words breaking their eye contact and reminding Stiles of where they were.

“Yes, of course. Thank you for the cupcakes, Don Hale.”

Wiping the frosting from his lips with the back of his hand, Stiles passed the box off to Scott, before turning back to Derek, his eyes once again cool and unaffected. The sudden shift was unnerving and kicked Derek off balance in a way that was unexpected.

“Don Hale, as per the normal courtship rituals, we are supposed to scent mark today. I believe that we can—What?”

Derek’s incredibly bushy brows had been steadily climbing up into his hairline until they were entirely invisible.

Without a word, Derek reached out and took Stiles by the hand, leading him out the door and following his nose to the room where Stiles’ scent was strongest.

“Is this your bedroom?”

Nodding, Stiles was too stunned to do anything but let Derek pull him into his own room, close the door, and gently guide him to the bed.

Derek arranged them on top of the covers, his body spooned around Stiles’, arms caging him in and pulling him tight to his chest.

“Is this okay?”

Stiles could only node mutely again, his body snuggling closer without his permission. He had prepared an entire speech about how this would go, what Derek was allowed and not allowed to do. He had planned to put his foot down, take control and keep it. Instead, he found himself lulled into a pleasant haze by the hot line of Derek’s chest pressing into his back, his legs tangled up with his, and knee sliding just a hair too close to his groin to be anything less than distracting.

 

They stayed like that for hours, both dozing in and out of sleep, Derek nuzzling their scent glands together periodically, neither speaking. It was only when the light had faded from the window, and they were both squinting a little to see, that Stiles pulled slightly out of Derek’s hold to flick on the bedside lamp.

Derek let him go only a little, his arms still held loosely around Stiles’ waist like a seatbelt so that when he turned to face Derek, they were still pressed closely together.

“I’m sorry. About earlier, I mean. I’m used to being in charge and—“

“You’re still in charge, Stiles.”

Shaking his head in confusion, Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but nothing seemed to come out.

“Stiles, you’re a don, in charge of one of the largest packs in New York. No one can take away your authority, certainly not me. I just want you to feel comfortable…with me…if we’re going to be mates. Part of that is letting me scent mark.”

“Hey, I understand! I do! I…I guess…thanks for being understanding…Derek.”

Derek smiled, his bunny teeth flashing and bringing a delighted flush unbidden to Stiles’ cheeks.

“I think that may be the first time you’ve called me Derek.”

With a huff, Stiles buried his face in Derek’s chest.

“Yeah well, if I’m going to smell like you, I may as well call you Derek.”

 

When Derek finally left a few hours later, Stiles’ bed was heady with their combined scent.

A part of him hated how easily he had let Derek curl around him and cuddle him close. Stiles did not like alphas. He liked Scott, and that was it.

Despite that, despite all of it, he curled close to the pillow that smelled most like Derek and used the comforting scent to help him make it back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, some more fluffy a/b/o, but the plot is going to get going again next chapter!

Stiles gets used to the scent of Derek, the deep woodsy scent pervading his entire life: Derek on his sheets, Derek on his clothes, Derek on his skin and in his nose and at his core.

It’s only been two weeks but Derek has been over every day, plying Stiles with chocolates, knives, and even books, much to Stiles’ delight.

Derek had looked a little sheepish when he brought the knives, handing them off each time to Stiles with an uncertain look in his eye, never 100% sure of their quality, if they were worthy of Stiles.

Both times, they were beyond Stiles’ dreams and he had immediately slipped them into the lining of his suit, enthralled by the sharp thin blades and delicate carvings on the handle of a wolf and a man walking through the woods.

But beyond that, Derek wouldn’t even look up when he had brought Stiles the most beautiful leather bound book Stiles had ever seen. The copy of Thomas Mallory’s _Morte d’Arthur_ was heavy and sun warmed from the ride over in the front seat of Derek’s Camaro.

Stiles was speechless, running his hands lovingly over the spine, reverently thumbing the pages as Derek watched from beneath his lashes.

“I saw you had a lot of books in here and I thought…”

Derek gestured helplessly at the shelves in the corner of Stiles’ room, mumbling under his breath in embarrassment. Fascinated, Stiles watched as Derek’s cheeks heated as he determinedly studied a hole in the wall to his right. (Stiles threw a knife at Scott’s head in a heat related rage once, not that Derek needed to know that).

“Derek.”

Reaching out with the free hand not still cradling the book like his baby, Stiles guided Derek’s gaze up with a gentle finger beneath his chin. He took in the image of Stiles, the book cradled protectively to his chest, eyes wide and earnest as he spoke.

“I love it.”

Derek’s cheeks heated further as he tracked Stiles’ movement across the room to place the book on a free space on his shelves with the utmost care.

The sway of Stiles’ hips was distracting, and Derek nearly jumped out of his skin when the dry heat of his omega’s hand slipped into Derek’s to guide him over to the bed.

“I love it.”

Derek was mesmerized, docile as a kitten as he guided him across the room. When Stiles pulled him down onto the bed on top of him, Derek groaned with how strong their combined scent had become. The covers were hot and rank with the smell of the two of them, so good Derek could barely breathe.

“You haven’t washed the sheets.”

The impish look he received was enough of an answer, even without Stiles’ little _nope,_ popped into the space between them.

There was no way they could be so intoxicated with each other in only two weeks, but Derek couldn’t deny the magnetic pull. He couldn’t control the need to lean down and run his tongue across the scent gland high behind Stiles’ ear.

Stiles just laughed, tilting his head a little to give more access to Derek’s exploring tongue. They had done this before, kissed hot and heavy until the sheets were damp with sweat and the smell of Stiles’ slick filled his nose, tempting Derek away from the Stiles’ neck towards more dangerous places.

Instead, he pulled back after just a few moments, already well acquainted with his own limits. He rolled them both on their sides and cradled Stiles against his chest protectively.

“I like this, maybe even more than the book.”

Stiles teased him, lacing their fingers together and bringing Derek’s fingers up for a kiss.

Snorting, Derek pulled Stiles a little tighter to his chest, but didn’t respond, half lost to the internal satisfaction of his wolf at having his future-mate so close and covered in his scent.

 

It had been hard, harder than he would admit to anyone except Stiles, to extract himself from their little cocoon. He left Stiles there, drowsy and content from scenting, looking so vulnerable Derek didn’t want to let him out of his sight.

“You need to go, I have things to get done today.”

Stiles smiled, his fangs peeking out cutely along the edge of his lip, still somewhat lost to his instincts.

Derek trailed a finger along the side of Stiles cheek, down the line of his neck, to press lightly against his glands.

“I could stay,” he offered, half desperate for Stiles to take him up on the offer, but Stiles shook his head no instead.

“I can’t…I can’t let go of the—“

He groaned in frustration, trying to shake off the drowsiness in his head and find the right words.

“I can’t get my omega side under control with you here, not after…after _that_.”

Derek puffed up his chest a little at that, proud of being able to affect his future-mate so strongly.

“Yeah, yeah. I see you feeling all smug over there. Get out, Derek.”

Derek wasn’t in love, not yet, anyway. But the image of Stiles, pink cheeked from embarrassment, shirtless, and smelling like _them,_ stirred up something really close to what he thought love might feel like.

 

The smile was difficult to curb as he left the bedroom and walked through the halls to the front door. He hadn’t planned for this, or expected this compatibility. His human side knew it was too fast, knew to be cautious, but his wolf side was overwhelming and demanding and just yearned for the omega and the bed he had just left.

So intoxicated with thoughts of Stiles, Derek nearly walked past the alpha lounging in the entrance hall.

“Congrats, man!”

Derek startled when he finally noticed the strange alpha leaning against the wall by the front door, and Derek’s exit.

Instinctively, his nostrils flared, taking in the scent of the other man. There was no aggression, but something set Derek’s wolf on edge.

“You bagged a nice little omega bitch in our little Don here.”

The man grinned, standing fully upright and moving to shake Derek’s hand. He was shorter and less muscular than Derek, but just the nearness of him made Derek’s eyes flash red in an involuntary warning.

The unknown alpha looked confused at the show of aggression, quickly holding up his hands in submission to which of them was clearly stronger.

“Hey man, no disrespect! I’m glad that you’ll be taking over. It’s been a while since a proper, strong alpha ruled this pack.”

Derek’s eyes flickered to red and stayed that way, the rage boiling up beneath his skin, setting his wolf howling and clawing to get out and go for the jugular.

“Don Stilinski is, and always will be, Don of this pack. Being my mate won’t change that.”

Stiles’ scent was still strong on his skin, driving his fury at this insult. How dare this man? How dare this insignificant weak little alpha even speak Stiles’ name? Stiles was so above and beyond this man, he shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe the same air. He—

“Look, we’re both alphas. We both know an omega can’t rule. They’re just not made for it. Let them warm a bed like they’re—“

The knife had flown by so quickly, it was through the alpha’s jugular before Derek’s could even blink.

His vision flickered back to normal, clearing of the red tinge in surprise as he watched Stiles move to remove the knife.  The blade looked familiar, one of Derek’s gifts being put to good use.

Stiles turned with a smile, Derek’s wallet in one hand as he used the other to clean the blood from the knife on the dead man’s shirt.

“You forgot this.”

Numbly, Derek took the billfold and slipped it into his back pocket.

Stiles tracked the movement with his eyes, finally landing to linger on the obvious bulge in Derek’s jeans.

The grin that split Stiles’ face was wicked and everything opposite of the sweet little omega Derek had left in their nest just minutes before.

Derek was so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually getting into some plot next chapter, hopefully. I've just really enjoyed writing these fluffy bits.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've had this mostly written since Monday, just without anytime to type it up and edit. I hope you enjoy!

Stiles is back in the red suit today. He has weirdly grown fond of the flashy garment, enjoying the intimidation factor that inherently comes when people can pick him out of a crowd. It doesn’t hurt that Derek’s eyes can’t seem to leave him whenever he wears it either.

They’re in his office this morning, war planning and doing damage control after an attack last night.

Stiles takes the file Scott hands him silently, already knowing what it says.

Gerard Argent has moved into the outer edge of his territory, killed two of his men, and has told everyone that will listen that _omega Stilinski is too scared to take his territory back._

He motions for Allison and Lydia to come forward as Scott moves to take his normal place standing at Stiles’ side, both waiting for the two women to speak.

“We have some preliminary information here about Gerard’s set up.” Allison speaks as she hands him the papers.

In meetings like this, Allison is like a private speaking to her general, always military style perfect. The one thing the Argents got right before they threw it away, to Stiles’ benefit.

“Despite Gerard’s claim that you’re weak, the satellite den he took is now overflowing with guards. He’s clearly waiting for some major retaliation and isn’t taking any chances.” Allison finished and stepped back to give Lydia the floor.

In turn, Lydia’s lips were curled into a feral hungry smile when she presents her proposal for the attack.

“It’s simple, really. We blow the place to hell and back.”

Stiles sat up straight, surprised. Lydia had always liked guns and explosions, but this was out there, even for her.

“We have enough explosives to level the building. It’s not in a highly populated area so we can easily get all civilians out without much trouble.”

“Could you do a controlled enough explosion to just collapse the building?” Scott questioned from behind Stiles, his hands resting on his bondmate’s shoulders.

Quirking one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, the entire room could practically hear the silent _what do you take me for?_

Stiles snorted under his breath, eyes locked onto the data spread across his desk, leaning subconsciously into Scott’s hands now rubbing along his back.

They waited in silence, already used to Stiles plotting and leaving them in the dark until he finally looked up with a gleam in his eye as the calculations came together.  

“I like it. Start preparations immediately. Be back here in an hour with something to show for it.”

Allison and Lydia each bowed, their lips curled in shared wicked grins. As they were turning to leave, they stopped as one of the betas stationed outside the office knocked tentatively at the door.

“Don Stilinski, Don Hale is here to see you.”

Stiles brightened immediately, ignoring Lydia’s barely concealed snicker as their normally subdued leader took on an almost puppy like persona.

“Send him in.”

He motioned for Allison and Lydia to stay, eager for then to finally meet Derek. He immediately perked up when his alpha knocked once before entering Stiles’ study, an easy smile on his lips.

“Stiles I—“ Derek chocked, his smile quickly  slipping from his face, eyes shifting to alpha red as they locked on Allison as he stepped completely into the room.

“Argent.”

He jerked as if to move forward, but stumbled when Scott suddenly blocked his way, snarling aggressively in his face.

Reacting on instinct, Derek snarled back, pushing roughly at Scott’s shoulders in an attempt to get to Allison, who was now obscured by Lydia and…and Stiles.

“She’s an Argent.” Derek looked to Stiles, pleading with his future mate to understand.

“I know.”

Stiles was cold and authoritative when he spoke, shocking Derek’s system enough to make him go slack in Scott’s hold. Stiles hadn’t used that tone on him in weeks.

“You know.”

The information wouldn’t process and all Derek could do was dumbly parrot back whatever Stiles said.

“Allison is Scott’s other mate, part of my guard, and my friend. I thought you had caught her scent already and were fine with it.”

Even in a moment like this, Derek couldn’t fight the flush at the implication. He didn’t want to admit that he had been so caught up in Stiles and his scent he hadn’t noticed anything else.

He watched Stiles, picking up the bitter edge of tension in his honey sweet scent. He held his gaze, reminiscent of their first meeting, challenging Derek until the alpha finally looked away in defeat.

“I won’t budge on this.”

In this moment, Derek knew he had a choice. He could ruin his relationship with Stiles with just the wrong word. He opened his mouth, struggling to find something, anything, to salvage the situation without giving away that he wasn’t sure if he could accept this. Instead, Allison approached, her movement bringing her to stand on the other of Scott’s outstretched arm, obscuring Stiles from view.

“Kate tried to kill me, too.”

It was like all the sound had been sucked out of the world except Allison Argent’s voice. He barely registered Scott’s plaintive, _Allison._

“My family is all alphas, and when I presented as a beta, Kate came into my room one night with a knife. My mom happened to be awake and heard her. My mom died defending me and I ran. The previous Don Stilinski found me wandering one night, a week after I had run. He took me in. I was 14 at the time and I’ve lived here most my life. I am an Argent in name only.”

Derek was mesmerized. Allison’s voice wasn’t emotional, but he could not detect a lie in her scent or the sound of her heart beat.

“I know what she did to you, to your family. I wasn’t there, but I know and…and I’m sorry.”

Scott moved to protest, _Allison, you don’t have to,_ but she held up her hand to stop him. This was between Allison and Derek, only.

Derek’s mouth felt glued shut, so all he could do was nod. What could he say to that? He wasn’t even sure he wanted to believe her, though his senses told him he had no choice. Her words were true.

At last, he found the strength to make eye contact and Allison smiled tentatively as she gently pushed Scott’s arm down and out of the way.

Derek nodded again, immediately seeking out Stiles for approval, which he received in the quirk of his omega’s lips.

“Wanna help us bomb Gerard Argent?”

The laugh was surprised out of him, forced between his lips as Stiles took his hand and pulled Derek over to his desk to show him the plans.

 

Derek had him up against the wall behind Stiles’ desk, hands firm and leaving hand shaped bruises on his thighs as he hoisted him up so Stiles could wrap his legs around Derek’s hips.

As soon as the meeting had ended and Allison and Lydia had left to put their plan in motion, Stiles had been on him, licking into his mouth like an attack.

“Mm, Derek. Derek—ah!”

Derek had scraped his teeth along the stretch of unmarked skin where a pre-bonding bite would go at the juncture of Stiles’ neck and shoulder, moving on instinct despite the abruptness of Stiles’ advances. They had been at this for a while, rubbing together fully clothed, and the threatening press of fangs pushed Stiles so close to the edge he couldn’t hold back his cries. His fingers scrabbled along Derek’s back in desperation, leaving red welts even through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Do it, do it, Derek. Come on!”

Derek was so far gone, he couldn’t have stopped himself, even if he had wanted to. Instead, he breathed hard against the sensitive skin over Stiles’ gland, rolling his hips roughly into Stiles’ so that he was hiked higher and higher up the wall with the force. He should wait. They should wait and discuss this more, but his mouth was watering with desires and Stiles was going mad, absolutely mad. There was no way he could survive, no way. No way he— _ah!_

The pierce of Derek’s teeth on his neck sent him spiraling over, his hips humping helplessly as Derek bit down harder, blood running down his chin and dripping down Stiles’ chest in rivulets.

He never wanted to let go, something primal inside of him telling him to keep and claim and hold Stiles forever with his nape between Derek’s teeth.

He released only when Stiles started to push forcefully against his head. Even then, Derek resisted at first out of instinct, but knowing something else needed to be done, and Derek needed to let go for it to happen, he finally found the strength to let go.

Surging forward as soon as he was free, Stiles sank his own teeth into the corresponding place on Derek’s neck. The pleasure of the completed pre-bond was so beyond anything Derek had expected, he spilled hot and wet against Stiles’ thigh almost immediately.

They stayed like that, panting against each other, mouths each stained bloody red until Derek’s muscles eventually gave out and he was forced to lower Stiles to the ground, but not letting him go far.

When he could finally pull back and look Stiles in the eye, seeing the smear of Derek’s own blood on his chin, Derek was surprised to feel his heart lurch painfully at the sight.

“Stay tonight. Stay with me, Derek.”

Derek wanted to, more than anything. Instinct wanted him to fuck and knot and bite again to complete their bond and bind Stiles to him forever. But his brain was in charge once more, and he pulled back a little to breath something other than the intoxicating scent of Stiles on every inhale.

“Stiles, we can’t—“

Stiles was already shaking his head, pulling Derek back flush against him with a smile.

“Just to sleep. Just to sleep.”

The look on his face was so vulnerable, Derek couldn’t help but think of all the things that could go wrong this week. They had been flippant about attacking Gerard, but the consequences were real, and dangerous. It felt like they were on the eve of war, and with the endorphins high in his blood, he let Stiles lick the blood from his neck before pulling him down the hall and into the bed that was quickly becoming _theirs._

 

Scott was stretched out on his and Allison’s bed, knowing that next door, Derek was wrapped around Stiles as his alpha.

Scott wasn’t jealous. That wasn’t how their bond worked, but he was warry. Here was an alpha who had taken over one mate’s heart, and forced the other to relive her worst memory. Right now, Scott was not Derek’s biggest fan.

“You know, you didn’t have to tell him that. You weren’t involved in Kate’s attack on the Hale pack. You were just a kid. You don’t owe him anything.”

Allison was seated at the vanity in their room, taking her makeup off with gentle wipes of a damp cloth.

“It wasn’t about what I owed him. It was the right thing to do, Scott.”

They both knew she was right, not that Scott was happy about it.

He ended up falling into a fretful sleep before Allison finally came to bed, worrying about Derek, about Allison, and about Stiles, always.


End file.
